Perhaps he’d start that family this very night.
Another male thrill coursed through him.
“Shall we toast our wedding?”
“Yes,” she said. Still quiet.
He smiled and raised his claret in her direction. His wife…
He’d always known it was his duty to marry. But there was nothing of duty in what he contemplated doing tonight and everything of longing and desire and, God willing, joy. “To our happiness.”
After a hesitation that jabbed at his heart, she took a sip. “Should I lie down?”
He hid a wince at the stoic little question. He’d hoped the memory of their kisses might ease her fears. That had been too optimistic.
He kept smiling, wishing she’d smile back the way she’d smiled yesterday afternoon, as if he set the sun shining in the sky.
“Shall we talk for a few moments first?” The flash of relief in her eyes pricked his vanity. “Do you know what’s going to happen?”
“My…my mother told me last night.”
Bloody hell. He could imagine how that had gone. No wonder his bride looked ready to bolt. “What did she say?”
Philippa blushed and studied her claret as if it held the answers to every eternal question. “That you’d hurt me. That I must submit. That this is a wife’s lot, and I’m paying for Eve’s sin.”
To blazes with the old bat. “Have some more wine.”
Her gaze darted up to meet his. “Will it help if I’m foxed?”
“It will help if you’re not expecting me to torture you,” he said shortly, yet again damning his harridan of a mother-in-law. “I swear it won’t be as bad as you think.”
He hoped to Hades he spoke the truth. He’d never taken an innocent girl to his bed before. The thought of Philippa’s ardent kisses bolstered his confidence.
With understanding and patience, the roué who still lurked beneath the new husband was certain that he and this woman could scale the heights of pleasure. The prospect of those heights made him hotter than the fire in the hearth.
“I hope not.”
He almost laughed. That cautious response was very much hers. She’d never butter a man up with meaningless flattery. “You trusted me yesterday. Will you trust me now?”
Another of those heart-stopping hesitations before she nodded and drank a little more wine. “I’ll try.”
A surge of fondness and gratitude jammed his throat so his voice turned husky. “I can’t tell you what it meant when you believed me yesterday.”
It was the first chance they’d had to discuss that harrowing scene in the library. He couldn’t think of another woman who would have stood by him. He still hardly believed that she had.
At that moment, his decision to marry Philippa Sanders had become his choice rather than something he did for honor’s sake. He’d always wanted and liked her, but her stalwart faith had rocketed his feelings into a new universe.
“I know Amelia.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“When I had a chance to think, I assumed that she must have tricked you.” Philippa no longer sounded likely to faint away at his slightest move, thank God. “After all, if you wanted Amelia, you’d have proposed to her.”
He fought back another, stronger urge to sweep Philippa into his arms. “What a fortunate fellow I am, to have such a level-headed wife.”
That drew the first hint of a smile from her, a tiny twitch of her lush mouth. He’d kissed that mouth. He knew how delicious it was. With an eagerness that would have astonished him five days ago, he looked forward to kissing it again.
Soon. But not yet. Not until the wary light left her big brown eyes.